


i think we could do it if we tried

by Blepbean



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Ice Hockey, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, This is basically a Check Please AU, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Ben is a freshmen in a scholarship at Samwell University, their grand final game is fast approaching and somehow him and Kenji don't get along. But through the haze, there might be something there.he thinks he might not understand his poetry, his words. It might be like trying to understand a hidden language, through the way he writes his words. Will Ben find words like, he’s half of my soul, as the poets say written with black ink against paper. Will Ben have to sit near crude candlelight, moving the flickering flame closer as he reads, let me trace your lips, and see where it leads further.
Relationships: Kenji Kon/Ben Pincus
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. the characters obviously aged up bc theyre in collge, but there's nothing explicit. there's a party scene and they don't drink and anything, and there's no smut (yall are gross if you age up characters and write about them)  
> 2\. i combined my two favourite things, check please and this camp dino gay show. idk i just thought that kenji was similar to nursey? I guess idk  
> 3\. i couldve written this better but... i wrote it for myself so 
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated!!

Now that Ben thinks about it, his plan of going into the Samwell hockey team and using it as a scholarship to get through his years of his uni for his anthropology degree (that he might not even use in his job) might not be a good idea. His figure skating skills (that’s barely there, it’s below average) don’t translate to stick handling, and he usually avoids the puck.

But the coach said that he’s fast, and they see ‘potential’ in him, so there’s that for him.

The ‘Haus’ that all of the top players live in reeks of booze and axe deodorant when he steps inside, he’s lucky he lives in the dorms. He catches a glimpse of Brooklynn filming a vlog, baking intricate dishes that look like it belongs in a five star restaurant. Sammy is making a pie, the type that’s full of warmth and baked with love, while Yasmina scowls at her health homework.

  
Darius is chatting with one of the girls in the hockey team, with his textbook open as he multitasks. He sticks out like a sore thumb, this isn’t his usual scene. The thing is, he’s not good at people, not good at change. Ben likes control and safety, closing himself in his box and staying there. He makes perfect, little schedules and he _sticks_ to it.

However, his partner on the ice _isn’t_ . He’s Kenji Kon, son of some rich guy whose dad owns condos on some goddamn island and he wears sunglasses _inside_ . He has his own apartment , and when Ben tells him to lower the strength on his wrist shots during practise, he’s met with a Kenji replying with _chill_.

He sighs, and he finds himself missing home. Before all of this, it was just him and his mum and their little cul de sac. Kitchen smelling of summer flowers and his mum’s perfume, sweet vanilla. She’s the type of person that knocks down walls when she walks into a room, and her smile is so bright that it hurts his eyes. She works her ass off, working at Masrani global. But she always comes back home at ten in the night. Ben always meets her when he goes to the kitchen to get a cup of water.

Her eyes hold so much kindness.

“Ben!” Sammy says as she rolls the dough, “that’s your name, right! You’re one of the _frogs_ this year.”

“What’s a frog?”

“Freshmen.”

“Oh…”  
  
When she pauses to roll up her sleeves again, Ben notices how her eyes gleam with softness, like how his mother would when she cooks canned soup for their dinner. He thinks her and his mum would get along well, “don’t be a stranger, come! If you don’t mind I need a few sets of hands to help me with this _pie_.”

“More like a _monster_ ,” Brooklynn comments, brandishing a torch flame out of thin air as she lightly toasts her Lemon Meringue Pie. Ben thinks that’s not how you’re supposed to make Lemon Meringue Pie.

“Oh please, my pies are baked with love and care. Yours is just a fancy gooble glock.”

They stare at each other across the room.

Darius coughs.

They go back into their silence. Ben feels like a fish out of water. He makes an excuse that he has homework to tend do as he walks back to the outside until he—

—stumbles into Kenji. 

He walks backwards, Kenji’s books falling to the ground. Ben notices how Kenji looks tired and exhausted, with a hoodie and sweatpants on. His hair isn’t gelled up and instead it turns into soft, lazy curls. He looks normal, he’s not used to seeing him without his sunglasses or khaki shorts, or the rolex on his wrist that blings like the sun. There’s no stride to his walk and posture. It’s like losing the blue in the sky.

It’s strange.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Kenji mumbles.

“Sorry,” Ben mumbles, picking up all the books. Their names aren’t something that comes to mind, _i’m tired of being a dandelion, painting as poetry, shelter._ But there’s a piece of paper that Ben reads within the span of seconds.

_“Perhaps, we can turn into more than just animosity. Let us put our weapons down and press our bodies together so close, that we might just forget about everything as it all dwindles away.”_

It bewitches him, stealing the air in his lungs and making him forget how to breathe for what he thinks lasts for a year, but it’s something comparable to a single _tick_ of a clock.

But it all comes tumbling down when Kenji scoffs, walking into the kitchen as he yells for Roxy.

Ben leaves, and he does _actually_ bury himself in homework. Slowly the articles blur together, words looking strange as thinks about how weird the spelling of _shelter_ is. But in the back of his mind, he thinks of _what ifs_. Maybe, in another universe he and Kenji didn’t bicker, that they didn’t get hold of animosity against each other. Maybe, in another timeline, they could turn into something more.

Ben groans.

—

When he was growing up, Ben heard of stories. Like in his high school, watching his peers toss themselves into the deep end and spark into something _alive_ . They fall in love without thinking. Make out behind the school. Sneak out into the night and feel the wind on their backs, squeezing every last _bit_ of being on the edge of teenage years until adulthood hits and they go their separate ways.

But Ben just stared and stared. He wasn’t made for things like _that_. 

So somehow, he finds himself being squeezed into one of the Haus parties. He’s awkward and he finds himself huddling in the corner of the room, clutching his red drink that’s full of water while the lights blur of reds and greens. The sweat of bodies. Cascades of conversations. Air stinging with booze. Ben doesn't get it. 

He spots Sammy handing out her non-alcoholic drinks that look like the colour of pepto bismol. When Yasmina takes a sip she covers her puckered lips by wiping it with the back of his hand. Darius is on the kitchen counter with his phone out, smiling as he texts someone. 

“Oi Ben!” Sammy yells across the room, “where’s Kenji!”

And it hits him, Kenji isn’t here. Within the mess of bodies and weird, uni kids making out in plain sight. He sighs, mumbling apologises as he squeezes himself past people. It’s like he’s disturbing their peace, their little bubble of fun that he shouldn’t come close too.

He steps out into the chilly air, going down the rickety stairs as he mumbles about how dumb Kenji is. Outside the blaring of music is muted, and the soft voices of people outside fills the air. It’s nice out, a full moon glittering it’s silver light onto the street. In the blue haze street light flickers with its sickly, yellow cones of light.

Above him, he hears Kenji groan. He steps out into the lawn and looks up to see him… on the roof.

“Fuck,” Kenji says, “uh… can you help me get down?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No!” Kenji yells, “why would I do that? I have a poetry reading presentation tomorrow. A stupid hangover will ruin that for me,” he heaves a heavy sigh, trying to shift to a more comfortable position, “I just wanted to see how high I can climb.”

When he looks back at the door, he sees Brooklynn running out with her phone out stepping into the lawn and standing next to him, filming the whole thing.

“You’re doing amazing sweetie!” Brooklynn yells.

“Thank you!”

“Uh…” Ben bites on his tongue.

The thing is, Ben doesn’t know what to do for these situations because he never came across this type of _situation_ before. He panics a little, and in about five minutes of Yasmina sighing, rolling her eyes with a giant ladder in her hands. Kenji comes back to the ground with no difficulty and he gets weird looks as he kisses the ground. Brooklynn whines that the entertainment is over, Sammy is sighing as she lectures him on his stupidity while Darius comes up with a plan that he calls the _Kenji watch_.

Something tugs at him to take a few more steps towards Kenji. It’s overwhelming, he lets it unravel and suddenly he’s tightly hugging Kenji, arms around his back while Kenji tries to pry him off him.

“How is your grip that… strong?”

Ben doesn’t let go. He doesn’t want to. Their bodies mold together like hands, a little calloused and a little cracked. Within the buzz of laughter and conversations he smells Kenji’s faint smell of cologne, an earthy smell that doesn’t make his nose hurt.

Ben lets himself smile.

—

He thinks, his love for figure skating started when the lake froze over midnight and when he stepped outside when he was eight with puffy jackets with his eyes staring in awe. Over there, someone was doing intricate spins, stepping across the ice with such care, leaving behind trails behind them. They gracefully floated off the air and Ben gasped. He thought that it was the most incredible he’s ever seen.

That he should stay away from it.

Because it’s something so _beautiful_ yet _dangerous_ that he thinks that he might butcher it and tear a hole in the lake, where he’ll drown in the icy waters and no one will ever find him. So it’s best to just look at figure skaters at the screen, stare in awe but never step foot on ice. But he learned how to skate when he was ten, and when his mum made him face his fears.

It ended up in tears, as well as a few bruises. He even learned a few step sequences and a few rotations.

But doing practise for hockey before an away game is ten times more terrifying than doing bunny hops. They’re practising passing and doing warmups, with Ben partnered with Kenji. They’re about ten metres away from each other, Ben thinks they’re too faraway. That the distance might stretch into a whole continent. He shouldn’t worry about that, because Kenji is already lining up for a pass and he’s putting his whole back into it.

Ben is going to get hurt and die from these exercises one day.

He dodges the puck with pure luck, and he hides his face behind his arm and he’s shaking.

“Ben! What the hell!” Kenji skates closer to him, with one hand in his pocket and the other carrying the hockey stick. He doesn’t gel his hair during games and during practises, and some of his curls hair creeps out of the helmet, catching bits of ice in his hair.

“Don’t hit it so hard!”

“I wasn’t hitting it so hard!”

“You were!”

“No I wasn’t! Stop being such a _baby_.”

Ben grits his teeth and yells, “well at _least_ I’m not a rich boy who’s getting by his daddy’s money!”

All the anger and rage in him leaves him, taking with it is the colour on Ben’s cheek and the usual chill that Kenji has. He watches him, the boy that he knew that laughed of his own jokes and steals Brooklynn’s phone from time to time to take a selfie turn into something _else_. Like pottery cracking, losing it’s glaze and turning dull. Leaving nothing but a shallow version of what it once was.

If Ben squints at Kenji, he can almost see himself crying when he accidentally broke the vase, and his mum came to help him get up.

Kenji throws his helmet onto the ice and grits his teeth, turning his back as everyone else in the ice goes silent. Darius, the ‘leader’ in the frogs has no soft words to get Kenji back to the ice as he slams the door on the way out.

He leaves too, but this time he isn’t quiet like Kenji. He suppresses his sobs but it only comes out broken as he closes the door on the way out.

—

Ben doesn’t lose his temper often. That was the _first_ time. He thinks, that he didn’t even have that _fury_ inside him to begin with. Like what he saw with the boys at his high school, during fights, blood and fists were the only way to get your point across. He didn’t mean to do that. Ben didn’t… want to be like _that_.

It just slipped out, became broken in front of them. Simply sticking the broken pieces of pottery isn’t enough. He has Kenji’s notebook on him as a peace offering, something he left behind in the changing rooms. Ben fights the urge to open the notebook. To peer into what he writes, his thoughts. 

But he thinks he might not understand his poetry, his words. It might be like trying to understand a hidden language, through the way he writes his words. Will Ben find words like, _he’s half of my soul, as the poets say_ written with black ink against paper? Will Ben have to sit near crude candlelight, moving the flickering flame closer as he reads, _let me trace your lips, and see where it leads further?_

Because he’s seen little bits and pieces of what Kenji writes. He’s a writer, taking a creative writing course like some pretentious rich kid. But he’s good, really _good._ He wonders who he writes it for, are they pretty? When they walk into the room does Kenji’s face blaze into a thousand runs? Do they make his heart skip a beat? 

It’s weird.

He holds his tongue as he spots Kenji on the bench, reading one of his books. Ben freezes, not knowing what to say or how to approach this. How does he apologise? He kneads his fingers together as the wind begins to pick up. Summer is slowly dwindling away and Autumn is bleeding into the chill winds and warm pies that Sammy bakes in the kitchen. When Ben gets a little closer, he sees that Kenji’s hockey bag is there next to him. Usually someone carries it back to his apartment.

“Wh-what are you reading?” Ben mumbles, shifting on the balls of his feet.

“Gilded wolves,” Kenji hums in a monotone voice, but it somehow still gets the anger through.

“I love that book!” Ben pipes, “and at the end Enrique gets in with—”

“—Don’t,” Kenji says, voice louder, “I haven’t finished the book.”

Silence stirs between them, Kenji sighs and closes the book next to him, “dude, what the fuck do you want.”  
  


“I wanted to apologize,” Ben replies.

“I don’t want your apology,” Kenji stands up, gathering his bag as he slings it over him, “I’m leaving.”  
  
Something rushes over him, and Ben does something so impulsive so quickly that he grabs Kenji’s wrist and grips him _hard_. Kenji winces, and when they lock eyes something shifts on the surface of who they are. He can see that Kenji is shivering a little bit in the cold, and soon he’ll start to wear his expensive trench coats, khaki shorts turning into slacks and maybe the lazy sweaters here and there.

Ben is stuck with hand me downs and buying from thrift shops.

“You forgot your notebook,” Ben hums, “I just thought that… you would… want it.”

Ben wants to dig himself a hole and never come out.

Kenji hesitantly takes it. In the cold, there’s a spark of warmth that lasts for a mere split of a second when their fingers touch. It blooms into something strange and Ben can’t figure it out.

“Thanks,” Kenji whispers in a monotone voice, with no vigour or comeback. Ben watches him turn around, walking off into the distance. A pang goes through his chest.

—

Ben never likes the attention, that’s who he is. Staying in the background while sometimes doing stupid doodles on his homework sheet. To everyone, he’s the exact _opposite_. Except to Yasmina, the fastest in the whole team and the best player to step into the ice. She shows up in the ice. Roxy and Dave described her as the ‘wildcard’.

Outside of that (with the exception of her smiling brightly when she helps Sammy in the kitchen) she’s in her own room in the dorms, sometimes in the library with her head down in her project that she does on her own even though it’s supposed to be a group project. She doesn’t take space like how Brooklynn does when she does her fancy blogs. Or Sammy’s loud voice that booms. She doesn’t match Kenji’s jokes and Darius’s ranting about how dinosaurs could have feathers on them.

She’s neither of those things. She’s the _best player_ , and that sort of spotlight is already catching the attention of sports broadcasters. When old, white men sit in their fancy suits and talk about sports they talk about her like some _female_ prodigy that birthed from the ‘ _SJW’_ new Samwell Ice hockey team. Kenji dies for that sort of attention. Ben pities her.

They sit in the library to _actually_ study, with Dave handing out bags of chips. Roxy pulls out a whiteboard and draws a messy plan of everyone’s position for the next away game, but everyone, even the seniors, ignores it and it’s half finished. It has weird smudges with tiny flakes of doritos across the board.

Ben gave up on his internet anthropology (that he finds interesting, but he doesn’t have the energy to do any of it) and now he’s reading the next chapter of Song of Achilles, a book that Kenji recommended to him. The book is Kenji's; it has all of his annotations with his fancy cursive writing and highlighters against the rough, beige paper.

Ben thinks he’s captivated, drinking in every word on how Patroclus loved Achilles without saying those three words. In the bustle of Brooklynn and Sammy arguing about whether she stole her phone or not, while Darius tries to calm down the situation everything dwindles away.

_“I feel like I could eat the whole world raw,”_ and Kenji annotates: _they’re drunk on each other’s love and stolen kisses, and for a moment they forget about Achilles greed will be his downfall and he can say that he’s so in love and full of joy that he could ‘eat the whole world raw’_.

Across the wooden table is Kenji, huffing. It’s late in the afternoon, lazy yellow hazes of sunlight drifts through the windows and into the library, casting his skin into a soft tone of warm fawn. With his hood on and in sweatpants, the Rolex in his hands seems out of place. He’s slumped over a laptop, taking notes down while pausing whatever video he’s watching to highlight a passage in _Romeo and Juliet._

Ben puts the book down, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. There, just a metre away is Kenji’s writing notebook, the one that he keeps on him and sometimes writes in randomly is there and he catches a few glimpses of words even though it’s upside down.

The few sentences sticks to him, though:

_You said you weren’t gonna turn into Midas, yet I cannot tell you apart while you order jesters and clowns to fill the lingering loneliness that resides in the castle, fill my room with diamonds instead of gold. Priceless jewellery can’t replace her soft smile, with her heart so big that you couldn’t fit yours in._

It feels too private, so Ben turns away and goes back to reading.

“Dude, you done with that book?”

Ben looks up at Kenji, a little tired with soft eye bags under his eyes. He thought he hated him, ignoring him through all this time after their conversation just a couple of weeks ago. He shouted at him. Kenji should _hate_ him.

“Uh…”

“Bro I need it tomorrow.”

“Oh… I’m not… I-I’m not done yet.”

“Cool,” Kenji replies, picking up his phone to take selfies in the library, probably another post with the caption _boring studying dude this is soooo lame_ that gets a thousand likes. The phone flashes, and he notices Kenji’s lips are pressed into a thin line, and how his jawline isn’t sharp when he juts it out, instead it’s much softer, smooth.

“Cool,” Ben says.

He goes back to his own work. In the shifting of chaos he can hear Brooklynn filming Darius for her vlog as he does an awkward wave, muttering a quick _I only really entered the hockey team because it sounded cool but I actually like hockey_. Sammy is humming to herself while she researches ancient Egypt, next to her is Yasmina who’s writing an essay with earbuds in.

Ben thinks, he might belong here in this group. 

—

He didn’t have much growing up. The tiny house he grew up was bare, only filling up with bare necessities. His room back at the dorms is like that too, only a bed with sheets and blanket, mismatched pillows and a closet with clothes. There’s the desk and the MacBook that sometimes turns off at random times.

So it overwhelms him when Dave asked him to walk to Kenji’s apartment, take the fancy elevators at six am to wake him up.

He calls Kenji’s phone, hesitant to bang on the door loudly because it’ll make a scene. The fancy chandeliers washing the hallway in its creme light, ferns that are _actually_ real and abstract paintings hanging on the hallway. He feels like he’s out of his league.

Fear strikes him as his knuckles hover on the door. Will Kenji hate him if he does this? He’s heard little pieces from Yasmina’s mumbling about sleep, and how waking up at NREM stages of sleep leaves people groggy and—

Ben yelps as Kenji opens the door.

Kenji yelps too.

“Ben,” Kenji groans, rubbing his eyes. He’s in sweatpants, looking bleary and confused. His hair in lazy, frizzy curls that frames his face. Ben momentarily forgets that Kenji is _rich_ , that he isn’t just a teenager waking up in the suburbs, “what the hell are you doing here”

“It’s six am.”

“It’s _chill.”_

“We have warmups before going to the away game.”

Kenji stirs awake, he yells, throwing the door open as he walks back inside. Ben follows, eyes amazed by the whole apartment itself. Soft pastel blues are painted on the walls, with fancy abstract black and white paintings hanging from the walls. Ben stares at the marble statues of a man crouched, his eyebrows furrowed, soft rolls of stomach carefully made from marble. The amount of talent to turn stone to depict something so soft astounds Ben.

But the view from this high up steals his breath away.

From above, it looks like he’s a god watching from the very heavens, seeing his creations get along with his life. It’s a concrete jungle with skyscrapers reaching up to the clouds, wanting to reach for the very stars. His mother told him to reach high, that they might gain enough money to pay for rent.

He keeps looking around. See through white curtains. Luscious green ferns adding colour against the black leather sofa and going well against the green of the cupboards in the kitchen. The apartment is open-plan, so spacey. He flips through magazines, bookshelves lined with things that Ben knows Kenji would never read. The more he stares, the more he picks up on the priceless antiques and tacky furniture.

Kenji must hate this apartment, can he sleep well? Does he get up from his bed when he can’t fall asleep? Let his fingers glide across the wall, mindlessly knocking around the endless hallways and hidden books and crannies. He’s like a bird trapped in a museum, rooms impersonal and fabricated for aesthetics.

He hears the clutter of hockey sticks and swearing as Kenji emerges from the hallway, with a Samwell hoodie on and a pair of denim jeans cuffed. He taps his white converse shoes against the carpet, groaning.

“Stupid,” he hauls the bag onto his back, “goddamn—fucking—bag—godfuckingdammit.”

“Kenji I can—”

“—I’m fine, I really should’ve done more pullups and pushups if I’m gonna be honest,” Kenji winces, “but I’m a _strong_ , independent twenty year old that doesn’t need _anyone_ to help me carrying stuff like this.”

There’s a beat of silence as Kenji leans against the wall to rest, wiping the sweat on his forehead. Ben counts the distance between them, the amount of steps it’ll take to cross the distance and get into his space. He starts to think of silly fantasies, and warmth floods into his chest. If Kenji was a boy who actually liked him back, Ben would let himself think of pulling him by the belt loop as they tumble into the kitchen to make shitty pancakes. He could think: _I like this person_.

But Kenji is made of puzzling colours way too bright, from his random rants about how _Romeo and Juliet_ is overrated, analysing classical literary pieces with while huffing _bro just fuck already_. He’s an enigma, and when they touch Ben thinks he might be set on fire.

It’s best to stay away from an inferno.

“Why do you… why do you have your own apartment?” Ben asks, wishing that his childhood dino plushie was here so that he can squeeze and hide behind it, “I-I mean like the Haus is really bad but the dorms are not so bad. It seems like such a struggle… walking all the way from here.”

“Bro… I don’t even know,” he drags the bag to the kitchen, Kenji slumps onto a chair, “like I thought it would be a good idea to like leave Japan and to rebel against my dad, use his money to get this _stupid_ apartment that I don’t even really like. I mean the staff back _home_ helps me and entertains me, but they always let me win at bowling.”  
  


“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ben says.

“All good man,” Kenji huffs, he sees a soft, melancholic smile on his face, “I like it here, I guess. I like ice hockey. And the weird rivalry against Brooklynn and Sammy.”

“I think they’re making up,” Ben says, “I saw Brooklynn giving Sammy like those really intricate cupcakes.”

“Kinda like us,” Kenji comments.

He forgets how to breath. 

“Yeah,” Ben says a second later, “I guess so.”

  
  


**_The HAUSSS (dino frog editions)_ **

**_Ben <3_ **

_Hey guys are we all at the bus?_

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_Yoo dudess_

_My main mans_

_And girls_

_And everyone in between_

**_Internet blogger girl_ **

_So progressive_

_We love that🙏🙏_

**_Sammyyy_ **

_Yasmina is getting my hockey stick for me_

_Shes so nice_

_Ty yasmina for getting my things!!_

**_Literal hockey prodigy_ **

_Np_

**_Sammyyy_ **

_ <333 _

**_Literal hockey prodigy_ **

_ <3 _

_Im so nervous this is our grand final game_

**_Dino boy_ **

_Youre gonna do great!!_

_We’re gonna do great_

_Bc we’re a team_

_Remember that_

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Ben steps into the ice, he immediately feels sick.

They’re playing defense, with one of the seniors playing as a goalie. Up ahead Yasmina is on the attacking side, leaving behind deep cuts on the ice. Sammy’s the only who can keep up with her, and he watches as they pass the puck to each other with the communication only coming from side glances and soft smiles. 

He feels his knees buckle and shake, knuckles turning white as he grips the hockey stick tighter. He’s absolutely _terrified_ of the puck. He’s seen videos of people getting hit by the puck, with bloodied mouth and cracked jaws. It makes his skin crawl. The shouting and the cheering from the crowd doesn’t help, voices turning into scowls and growls.

He feels so _small_ in this team. Yasmina and Sammy work well together and are one of the best attacking pairs in the team, with Brooklynn and Darius supporting them from the flanks when they cross the middle. Kenji’s bragging and confidence matches his speed and defence.

He’s practically a baby in the ice.

Time seems to stretch and slow and they’re down to the final five minutes. Ben doesn’t know where to look or where to go, eyes bouncing back and forth to the pucks and hockey sticks. An upset suddenly occurs and one of the fastest members in the enemy team comes rushing in, a blur of movement with their smile so sharp that it could cut him in half.

Kenji next to him accepts the challenge, he wipes his mouth with the back of the mouth. Against the camera flashes and banners, people stand up to cheer their teams. They lock eyes. Kenji is practically speaking to him without words, eyes softening, the corners of his crinkling. He’s seen it so many times, he knows the topography, when the natural phenomena occurs.

He’s still studying the events of when it happens.

And it happens during those soft moments, studying in the library just before a giant test, stress levels high. He’s caught one of these, with his textbooks piled on his desk. When he looked up, Kenji was there, face like the sun while he smiled _at him_.

The match slowly bleeds back in and Ben thinks he can maybe, possibly, slightly do this. Because his skating isn’t shaky or awkward nor is his stick handling. He finds himself to hold more confidence, lips pressing into a steady line. He’s not the little kid anymore, but despite everything he’s still _him_.

He matches Kenji’s skating, getting close as he loops behind the enemy player. In a split of a second Kenji manages to steal the puck and the crowd roars, shouting and throwing popcorn into the ice. He gets the puck, smiling at him. Kenji smiles back. He lines up to pass it to him but his stick handling is a bit off and he—

—Manages to do a slapshot so fast that it breezes through _everyone_ , hitting the goal even though he’s on the other side of the court.

Ben can’t believe it, his eyes widens and he drops his stick. The sound of cheering bleeds into the alarm indicating that the match is over. Ben and Kenji takes both of their helmets off, and Ben’s suddenly met with a bone crushing hug from Kenji, his head digging into a crook of Ben’s shoulder like they were the perfect cut for each other.

“We did it!” Ben says, and around them the confetti starts to fall. 

“That was so cool,” Kenji whispers, Ben gets a whiff of his cologne, a light but earthy cologne, it suits him, “but we didn’t do it. _You_ did it.”

Everything starts to melt and Ben can picture that it’s just two of them in the empty ice rink, doing early morning practise because Kenji dragged him out of the bed to help him get a grip of his stick handling. Their voices echoed, and the grey haze of dusk mixed in with the yellow lights of the giant roof of the hockey building. Empty blue seats. The sound of silence. It’s just the two of them, alone in a giant building, but the all them is enough to fill an entire building with just their bickering and soft smiled slotted in. Kenji's groans fills the seat where the puck cut through the glass and landed on the empty chair, it's painted red. Ben's determination fills the longing of his home, which is thick when they practise alone in the early mornings. 

“This might sound crazy but,” Kenji pauses, there’s shakiness in his tone, “I wanna kiss you.”

Ben forgets how to function like a human being, so he just breathless laughs. Kenji pulls apart from the hug, tenderly holding his hand, squeezing it. He notices how his eyes are deep, brown, the colour of the earth. Ben like used to this boy with blue eyes, with the oceans controlling the roars of storms. But he might like brown eyes, and how it holds the very riches, and sometimes turning into ichor in the sunlight.

Ben recollects how he pulled back too much, let time slip away. He often watched other people fall in love, kiss, pour their hearts out into the open. And they cry for a day and come back all fine within a week. He never had that. And now he’s terrified that _this_ will slip away from him and never come back.

In the shouting, TV reporters and swirl of confetti Ben goes on his toes and pulls him. The kiss wasn’t like the movies. It’s awkward and a little terrifying and Kenji laughed and smiled into it. Ben notices how he tastes of warm, English tea, and the soft tinge of mint hanging there.

They’re interrupted by Brooklynn coughing, then passing a twenty dollar bill to Darius while saying _fine, you can say I told you so_. Sammy screams, and she pulls them all into a hug and all collapse into ice, and somehow Yasmina is there too. They both smell of sweat and tears. Everything is a haze, but Ben remembers all of them posing with the giant trophy cup with him holding it up, the metal feeling cold and frozen under his fingers.

An hour later, they pile into the bus, Ben leans on Kenji and his eyelids feel heavy.

“We won a final,” Ben mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s _chill_ ,” Kenji huffs, he’s looking through his phone and clicks on an article. It’s a photo of them, the six of them around the trophy with Kenji’s hand on his shoulder. It’s a buzzfeed article titled: **_THE FIRST EVER PROGRESSIVE ICE HOCKEY UNIVERSITY TEAM JUST WON THE NATIONALS FINALS (YOU PROBABLY CLICKED ON THIS ARTICLE BECAUSE OF THE KISS, YES THEY’RE ADORABLE)_**

“We won,” Ben repeats again.

He listens to the sound of Brooklynn talking on her Instagram live stream and Sammy humming. He doesn’t think of the future, it’s well away. Future Ben can deal with it later, so lets himself drift off to a well deserved sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just really miss them okay leave me alone, i don't know if this is going to be a casual update but i might revisit this fic every now and then to update it. i really like this au i made tho lol
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

They’re moving into being sophomores.

And that's actually… terrifying.

They throw a kegster which involves the Seniors crying their eyes out, with one almost breaking a wall. It’s an absolute mess, during the whole time Ben was close to Kenji, keeping his hands in his and locking their fingers together to keep him sane in this chaos. Dave hugs the seniors and ends up sobbing. Roxy had to pull him away to give them a break.

Through the mess of bodies and laughter that brims in the air Ben still can’t believe that  _ they  _ won the grand final. Samwell, notorious for  _ almost  _ making their to finals, but every time they make it to the semi finals they manage to fumble it. Until this year, with Ben accidentally doing a slap shot within the last few seconds.

He still can’t believe it.

“Hey,” Kenji says, he puts his arms around him as they walk out of the Haus, giving the Seniors another few minutes to take in the fact that they’re going to graduate, take on another identity and integrate into society, “you okay?”

“I’m fine it’s just… not settling in.”

“What’s not settling in?”

“That we won? I guess,” they stop walking, standing under the streetlight that blooms of a yellow, sickly hue, “it feels like a dream, I guess. I don’t know. I think I'm freaking out. Not just that we won but also that like we’re gonna be sophomores and—“

“ _ Baby _ ,” Kenji accidentally slips it out and forms into a soft whisper between them. Ben practically melts into it, there’s a small exhale as he lets out his unguarded smile slip out, “we’re gonna be fine. It’s  _ chill _ . You’ve got me. And I’ve got you. That’s us. We’re the best team—“

“—literally Yasmina and Sammy are better than us—“

“—Ben you’re ruining the moment.”

“Sorry.”

There’s a pause between them.

Then a burst of laughter erupts and he feels Kenji’s hands intertwine against his. He likes this. This human touch that spreads like wildfire, warmth coming to his fingers and all the way to his chest, making his heart flutter.

The next day they attend the end of year meeting, with Kenji being appointed the MVP of the team. He almost cries on stage because he didn’t expect to win, he’s a wreck of nerves on the stage and it’s adorable to see him like this. Kenji Kon, the man who’s usually full of  _ chill  _ who’s totally not  _ chill, _ caught off guard by the sudden surprise.

“Uh… I don’t know what to say,” Kenji says, trying not to get his suit wet with tears in front of everyone, Dave smiles at him, “like… seriously like I-I don’t know what to say I thought I wouldn’t win MVP.”

“Of course you would win!” Sammy says out loud. The room bursts into a bubbly laughter.

“Well I guess while I’m still up here… thank you for everyone voting for me as the MVP. But I think this award goes to Ben because I really don’t think I deserve it,” he chuckles, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Ben feels his cheeks flush red, he hasn’t heard  _ anyone  _ praise him like that, they meet eyes, momentarily everything melts away and it’s just two of them.

Kenji clears his throat, “he scored the goal that won us the final game, so I really do think that it should go to him, he deserves so much credit. He has grown not only as an athlete, improving on his stick handling skills and his overall game sense, but as a person. I see him being more and more to himself. I guess, uh… that’s all, I think.”

A few whistles and cheers erupt into the air. Kenji sits next to him, slumping into the chair and letting out a hiss of air.

“You good?” Ben asks.

“Fine, great actually. More than fine. I feel fantastic.”

“Cool.”

“Neat.”

They announce the new captain of the hockey team, across the rectangular table Darius gleams in awe at the Junior accepting the award and storming up a speech. Ben can see it, Darius Bowman, being the captain of their hockey team in three years. He has the natural leadership skills, and he’s a killer persuasive speaker.

Them..

Senior year.

  
The thought scares him, but as long as everyone is here, Ben thinks he can get through this with ease.

After the meeting graduation kicks in. They sit at the back row, with Roxy softly smiling, her eyelashes a little wet while Dave records the seniors like a proud mum while they take their diplomas. Sammy cheers and claps louder than the rest. Meanwhile Brooklynn is on a live stream, talking to her fans about how excited she is for the next year.

The final person comes up, there’s a certain nervous look that’s plastered on his face. It fades like dusk against the rising sun, he steps into the mic, fixing his blonde hair while his bright blue eyes sparkle with hope.

“Thank you, class of 2017 for allowing me to represent us here today. My name is Eric Richard Bittle, an American history major and proud member of the NCAA divisions I championship winning hockey team. And one of the first openly gay NCAA D-1 Men’s Hockey captain,” he pauses, then look somehwere to Ben and Kenji’s direction, “though we can’t forget that iconic kiss, looking at you  _ boys _ .”

No one turns around, but there’s a softy laughter that buzzes through the crowd. Kenji turns into a deep shade while Ben buries himself into his shoulder. They both actively wish forthe sweet release of death.

His talk goes on about his first encounters in Samwell, and the amount of pies he’s baked (“I have to give it up for this guy, I really do think he’s a better baker than I am,” Sammy said). But the last parts of his speech sticks to him.

“...How can a place transform you so much in only four years? How can it come to define you, fill you with bittersweet joy and make these last days as students feel momentous?  _ How can one place come to mean so much?” _

It makes Ben a little teary eyed, and he feels something in his chest bloom with warmth. A smile creeps on his cheeks. It spreads a little wider. Maybe, his body made of pasty skin and too much sugar free orange drinks isn’t enough to fit in his emotions, his love and heart, that it leaks out in small things like how his eyes lights up, or soft smiles that turns wide ones. 

Kenji next to him smiles.

They stand up and applaud.

They watch the seniors kiss the ice.

Afterwards as he packs his things to get ready to go back to his hometown for the holidays he stops, staring at this empty room, bare of any posters. This room, it still lingers of late night study periods, pouring over his favourite topic, internet anthropology. The various YA fantasy novels that used to be on his desk is now tucked away in his suitcase, so is his polka dotted blankets and pillows, and his Samwell and childhood posters are now rolled neatly in his carry-on bag.

It’s strange, to be standing in the middle of his dorm room and seeing… nothing.

It dawns on him that he’s moving into the next year, which means new courses and new challenges. It even means navigating his new-found relationship with Kenji. It’s mostly terrifying, like a leap of faith into the pit of darkness. He’s revolved his life in strict schedules and careful planning, with a lot of hand sanitizers involved as well. But here comes Kenji Kon, an extraneous variable in his plan, a misplaced book among his shelves, a jarring thing that could intercept his schedule.

Perhaps, this is love, letting someone in with the risk that they break everything that you’ve carefully built over the years. 

He hears footsteps behind him, he almost jumps.

“Don’t do that do me, Jesus,” Ben sighs, he stares at Kenji, looking all sharp but cozy in his ceme turtle neck and beige trench coat, along with his baggy blue denim jeans.

“Sorry, I just heard that you got dibs or something—”

“—I got someone’s room in the  _ Haus _ .”

“I don’t know what that means but I’m glad that I don’t have to know what that means,” Kenji leans against the door frame, “I’m  _ never  _ spending the night over in that wretched place.”

Ben laughs, filling up the space, “what are you doing here, though?”

“Oh,” Kenj clasps his fingers together, “I just… wanted to see you… I guess. Before I fly over to Japan and all for the holidays. You know, typical rich kid stuff that you southerns can’t relate to.”

“Wish I could go with you.”

“You still can.”

“I don’t have a passport.”

“Oh,” Kenji sighs, “that thing, yeah.”

“Yeah…”

Ben fiddles with his fingers, “does it feel like everything is moving too fast?”

Kenji takes a step forward, “what do you mean?”

“It was this year that we trended on twitter with our kiss. It’s kinda scary. I guess. I don’t know. Like we kissed and I scored and I’m really,  _ really  _ terrified of what to come and—”

“ _ Hey _ ,” Kenji hums, soft, sweet, he takes Ben’s hands into his, it grounds him, “if this is going too fast you can tell me, you know that.”

“It’s not you, I think it’s just  _ everything _ .”

“Everything?” Kenji repeats.

Ben chuckles, “everything, I guess. But I still want this. I still want… you. All of you.”

“Ew.”

“Shut up.”

They dissolve into a pile of giggles that takes about five minutes to recover from. Kenji drives him to the train station, it’s full of tired businessmen and college kids ready to go home.

Just like him.

In the flush of December Kenji smiles at him, full of warmth. The train halts, and he feels the wind brush past his skin.

“Text me,” Kenji says.

“I will.”   
  


Ben steps onto the train and tries not to think of spending the holidays without Kenji.

—

**The HAUSSS (dino frog editions)**

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_ Hi besties _

_ Im so fukcing bored lol _

**Internet blogger girl**

_ Youre literally in japan _

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_??? _

_ Okay?? _

**_Sammyy_ **

_ Omg lol _

**_Dino boy_ **

_ I wish i could go to japan _

_ Apparently they opened a really cool dino museum that uses high new tech and VR and stuff _

**_Internet blogger girl_ **

_ Omg youre adorable _

**_Literal hockey prodigy_ **

_ Barf _

**_Ben <3_ **

_ Okay i think it’s actually adorable  _

**_Sammyy_ **

_ See yasmina _

_ Ben agrees with me _

_ If we have the time and money we should go to the museum _

_ Right yasmina? _

**_Literal hockey prodigy_ **

_ … _

_ Fine _

_ Only if you’re there _

**_Kenji kon 🤑🔥💯_ **

_ God i hate gay people so much it’s unreal _

**_Internet blogger girl_ **

_ You literally kissed ben in front of the cameras and got yourselves trending on twitter _

_ — _

The holidays finally ended at a sluggish rate, but they’re here now, standing in front of the Haus, kept awake by the monotonous buzz of coffee in their head and Sammy’s overeager attitude to  _ finally  _ live in the Haus. They’re sophomores now. It digs itself and makes and forms a horrible headache in Ben’s head.

Though Kenji’s hand on his shoulder helps a little bit.

“Kenji why are you here?” Roxy flips through her clipboard, “you already have an apartment?”

“I’m here for morale support.”

“Understable ,” Roxy hums, “okay frogs, get in, we're settling you all into your rooms. All of you are so lucky to have the Seniors give dibs on you guys, something unheard of. It’s well deserved, after that incredible performance in the grand final.”

Kenji nudges him on the shoulder as they walk up the stairs.

He gets the smallest one, and he likes it better that way. Apparently next to him though is one of the best defenseman in the hockey team that rivals Yasmina’s speed, which is kinda terrifying actually. It’s practically bare, with light blue walls staring back at him, a naked bed with a frame and a tiny desk and chair staring out of the window.

“It’s tiny…” Kenji walks behind him, “what is this?”

“I don’t mind it, actually,” Ben says, he puts his suitcase on the bed and opens the window, revealing dust that’s probably a hundred years old, “I like it. It’s like my room back home, it could do some work though. Maybe there’s a Jimmy Fallon tutorial or something.”

It gets a snicker out of Kenji, he shoves his hands into his pockets and draws out a heavy sigh. Meanwhile, Ben’s mind is already working wonders, picturing what bookcases to get, where to place his stuff, how to make the room less depressing. The floor creaks beneath his feet. He thinks he can hear the Junior defenseman bantering outside the hall. Strange.

“Hey Ben?”

He swipes the dust on the desk, “yeah?”

“I know like we’re practically dating but…” he pulls out a tiny dandelion from his pockets, though it’s a little dry, “would you like to be my boyfriend?”

“Huh?” Is all that Ben says as he turns around.

“Is it the flower? I think it’s the flower, take pity on me I literally plucked it off the ground—”

“No I... “ Ben pauses, taking a few steps in front of him, feeling warmth creep up on his cheeks, “it’s adorable, didn’t expect you to be romantic at heart.”

“Oh… you’re testing me Ben Pincus? What, you’re waiting for me to do a whole poem now.”

“Wait, you can make one?”

“If you want.”

“Make a happy one… actually, if you don’t mind.”

Kenji chuckles, then takes a step, lets his hand trace his jawline, “you're like the jagged cliff side.”

He kisses the corner of his eye, “as I am the roaring tides that crash against you.”

Kenji takes his hands, kisses his knuckles, “and if we let time take its toll.”

He kisses his forehead, “then perhaps I could carve a home inside you.”

Ben lighty chuckles and rests his head on his shoulder, “thank you,” he whispers.

Kenji takes a deep breath and says, “love you.”

“Love you too,” Ben replies. Their voices come out a little tired and rough, but it’s different for the both of them. It’s awkward for Ben, like he’s preparing to bring up his shields and to shut down. It is strange on Kenji’s tongue, almost as though there should be a strange joke or humour to soften it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the last scene is inspired by all hail the underdogs leave me alone


End file.
